


The Wedding Night

by Val_Creative



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Description, Mind Control, Parody, Scat, Trolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her troll flesh is the stinkiest and moldiest this side of the western realm, Catrina preens. And she’s enjoying the sight of Uther kissing every inch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anon: "Literally anything from Catrina's point of view."
> 
> DEANONING FOR MERLICFICDRIVETHRU AS FIC'S AUTHOR! I laughed the whole time writing this and I'm not even a little sorry.

*

When Uther’s sloppy lips crash against hers, she falls backwards.

Their marriage bed is too  _clean_  and reeks like  _fragrant_  oils. Catrina nearly gags. It’s bad enough she’s got the king’s prick humping against her front, but to consummate their union on  _this_  freshly linened bed, she won’t allow it.

As lovesick as Uther currently is, he never blinks an eyelash as she convinces him to pile all the stable’s dung and rotting bugs onto his  _kingly_  bed.

That’s much better.

Her troll flesh is the stinkiest and moldiest on this side of the western realm, Catrina preens. And she’s enjoying the sight of Uther kissing every inch of it. 

Uther’s trousers fumble down in his hands, proudly revealing his flushing prick. If she really wanted to, she could  _rip_  it off, leaving him gored and lamenting the passing of his manhood as Camelot’s king bleeds out of those filthy sheets. 

Though, it is a very  _ugly_  prick. Nice and warm against Catrina’s grubby hands.

She doesn’t mind it pushing roughly inside her, too eagerly, with little preparation asides her slathering old dung around his shaft. There’s something  _equally_  filthy about his animal noises as Uther humps her down, growling against her warty cheek, her jagged nails raking holes into his tunic.

They consummate for much less time than she expects, until his slimy seed empties into her womb, and Uther groans above her as if he’s been to heaven.

“ _Off_ , you mangy thing! That’s enough of that,” Catrina says, voice like broken glass as she kicks him off with stubby legs, aiming for his bollocks. 

He careens off the bed with the same lovesick expression.

“And get me some maggoty cake while you’re at it! I’m hungry!”

“ _Anything you wish, my sweet dove,_ ” Uther murmurs happily from the floor.

*


End file.
